


Unwrapped

by am_bellanoire



Series: Black Desire [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/F, Hermione Granger Scores a Black Sister Hat Trick, Light BDSM, Polyamory, Sex Magic, Smut, Voyeurism, or more like sisterly sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:34:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27913117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/am_bellanoire/pseuds/am_bellanoire
Summary: “No one's going toravishyou, pet,” the eldest Black murmurs, her tone only slightly mocking despite the hunger that creeps, “I'm feeling rathergenerousbesides, must be all the holiday cheer.” An eye roll and then an overly graceful extension of her hand in a sweeping motion, “Sisters, she's all yours first. Happy Christmas.”Oh.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Andromeda Black Tonks, Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Hermione Granger/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Series: Black Desire [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113410
Comments: 30
Kudos: 242





	Unwrapped

**Author's Note:**

  * For [letthemysterybe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/letthemysterybe/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Black Desire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25858132) by [am_bellanoire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/am_bellanoire/pseuds/am_bellanoire). 



> This one-shot is dedicated/gifted to my boo, letthemysterybe, who wrote one of the pieces that inspired me to continue writing Bellamione. Initially the first Bellamione story I ever wrote was back in 2015 for a challenge. I was already obsessed with Bellatrix and Hermione separately but I didn't fall in love with the ship fully until I read TGCWW (KuraiBites), Impossible (PerfectPride), and Tomorrow by letthemysterybe. I owe you a lot, love, so this is for you, hope you like it! 
> 
> **Set in the same storyline as Black Desire

Christmas has always been her favorite holiday. There is something so special about the combination of cold and warmth, fire and ice, love and family, wrapped gifts beneath a trimmed evergreen sparkling with golden light. But it isn't just those holiday things that sets the butterflies to fluttering in the pit of her belly, that makes her heart rate increase. No, it is the sight of her lovers, the three of them, regarding her with looks that vary in desire. 

Bellatrix's is whose gaze she meets first, onyx eyes _smoldering_ as they shamelessly rake over her. A pink tongue darts out and licks a plump red lip as if she can already taste her. Narcissa is more reserved in her cravings but they are there, brimming beneath a layer of thin ice, and Andromeda balances it out, the middle sister, a mix of heat and frost.

All the while, Hermione stands, presented before the three, clad in nothing but scraps of fabric that barely conceal the important bits. Nothing left to the imagination, a present half unwrapped, hanging on by nothing but the ribbons. But then again, what is the point. All of them have seen her naked, if anything this is a tease. The most delicious sort and Hermione cannot wait to be stripped bare. 

Just the same, she cannot fathom how she could ever withstand the sheer rapture that will surely befall her very soon. She had never had the three of them at once, ever. And her nerves quickly override her arousal as visions of being torn apart like a piece of meat between rabid wolves flood her mind. 

Narcissa smirks, the blue of her eye softening a little with amusement as she easily reads her thoughts, the most skilled in Legilimency of her sisters. Bellatrix snorts, the best at sensing fear and uneasiness in others, and Andromeda merely quirks a sardonic brow as if asking permission for something she's already been granted. 

“No one's going to _ravish_ you, pet,” the eldest Black murmurs, her tone only slightly mocking despite the hunger that creeps, “I'm feeling rather _generous_ besides, must be all the holiday cheer.” An eye roll and then an overly graceful extension of her hand in a sweeping motion, “Sisters, she's all yours first. Happy Christmas.” 

_Oh._

Hermione is sure the shock registers quite plainly on her face at that unexpected announcement, but before she has a chance to say anything – definitely not a protest – Narcissa is at her back and Andromeda's hands are on either side of her throat, bringing her forward into a deep kiss. Before her honeyed eyes flutter shut, the former Gryffindor catches a glimpse of Bellatrix summoning a chair so that she may have a front and center seat to the scene about to unfold. 

The two make short work of the straps with the eagerness of witches far younger, quickly exposing her breasts, her nipples hardening into peaks at the sudden change in temperature. Her eyes flicker back and forth between Andromeda and Narcissa, both who are far too clothed for her liking and a murmur of dissatisfaction bubbles from her lips. She can hear Bellatrix chuckle darkly in the background before the former lieutenant raises her curved walnut wand and casts a silent _Vestes Evanesca_. 

“Modesty doesn't become either of you,” she drawls with a toss of her mass of curls, ignoring the sharp gasps her sisters make as their clothes melt away into nothingness right off of their flesh, before settling into her chair, elbow on one rest, chin fitting in the palm of her hand, “Don't bore me now darlings, before I take my gift back.”

Hermione would be lying if she said she doesn't appreciate the short distraction because it gives her the chance to take in an eyeful of two of her three lovers completely bared before her. Narcissa in all her alabaster glory, her blonde hair unbound and left to its natural wave pattern. A rare thing indeed that makes Hermione's fingers _itch_ to tangle themselves in it. Her breasts peek out beneath that flaxen curtain, nipples plump and pink and begging to be plucked, giving way to a slender build and hourglass outline courtesy of a tight laced corset, the indents of the boning embedded into her torso. Her cleft is just visible beneath a dusting of more blonde, wetness already making it glisten and Hermione can't help but suppress the urge to _touch_. Andromeda too is just as mouth watering, her hair a dark auburn with more curl than wave and shorter, brushing the swell of the start of her ribs. Her skin is tanner, sunkissed, with curves that beg to be squeezed. Breasts more ample, body fuller. The evidence of her arousal is visible too and it takes the former Gryffindor several moments to regulate her breathing. 

But it's all for naught as it is because a choked gasp is wrenched from her suddenly when both sisters _descend_ onto her, each taking one of her nipples into their mouth, gripping her by the waist on either side to steady her as they suck at her mercilessly, sending sparks ricocheting throughout her body to explode between her thighs. She bites her lower lip to stifle a moan, rocking back on her heels. 

_Let her hear you, my sweet. Let us hear you._

Narcissa's voice filters into her mind, unbridled, and Hermione welcomes it, too turned on to even think of throwing up a hasty Occlumency shield. Probably wouldn't have been able to stay the invasion if she tried given how strong the youngest sister's power is in this regard. Still, she can feel the lull of that cool voice, feel the urge to please come to surface as it always does when she's in Narcissa's thrall, can feel the compulsion in those icy blue eyes and _surrenders_ to it, crying out as Cissa's teeth bite down into her sensitive flesh, tongue quickly soothing the sting. 

“Good girl,” Andromeda croons around her other nipple, not even giving the brunette a pause between sensations, the combination of warm breath and gentle vibration making Hermione gasp and hiss, her legs weakening as her back arches, “Beautiful girl.”

“That she is,” Narcissa murmurs aloud, “But let us bring her to the bed now, hmm Andy?”

And before Hermione is aware of even changing position, her back hits the soft down bedding, arms and legs in a tangled heap. She isn't so gone that she misses Andromeda settling between her split thighs, nor does she not sense Narcissa straddling her, coaxing her fingers towards warmth and wetness. She even spots Bellatrix tossing her skirt aside and stretching a leg over the other arm rest of the chair, baring her own weeping core for Hermione to see before burying her nimble fingers inside with a heady inhale. 

Then all Hermione knows is the back of her eyelids when _Andromeda's_ tongue swipes a scorching line up her lower lips, spreading her open like a flower in bloom and Narcissa's hips grind down, wetness soaking into her skin, controlling her fingers and rubbing them against a swollen clit. 

Being taken and being used and being _watched_ all at the same time and it's a war on her senses. Hermione bucks against Andromeda's mouth, moaning and purring and calling out her pleasure while Narcissa's own quieter but just as sinful sounds of bliss rain down on her from above. She tries to fight her own pleasure just so her fingers won't trip over themselves between Cissa's folds but the moisture that seeps out of the blonde makes it hard, not to mention the way Andromeda swirls her tongue in _just_ the right way. The middle sister loses her composure for a moment, gasping helplessly as if she's being dragged to the precipice of release herself. But Hermione can't even begin to think of _how_ because she's _coming_ against those supple lips, that skilled mouth just as Cissa tumbles over the edge herself with a soft cry. Andromeda follows with a series of choked gasps but still doesn't remove her mouth, making Hermione ride out the aftershocks, thrashing and bucking beneath her, stars going fandango across her vision. 

She hardly registers the sound of movement approaching the bed until the overwhelming scent of pine and dark spices flood her nostrils and it's with a plaintive moan that Hermione allows her lids to flutter open and peer up to face the eldest sister, decadently nude, her milky skin rivaling the moon's glow, contrasted by that sea of ebony curls that fall to her waist. 

“Bella,” she sobs, as it's the only sound she thinks she can make at the moment. 

“What ungrateful little sisters I have,” Bellatrix tuts though her eyes are burning with lust and her tone is hardly chiding, it's far too low and sultry, “Barely even used the gift I so graciously gave them. Hmm, looks like I have to fix that, won't I?” She slaps the thigh Narcissa has draped over Hermione's hard enough to draw a noise from the blonde that doesn't sound pained at all, sending her all but scrambling up to the head of the bed and Andromeda follows suit, not needing a physical spur to move. The air remains sex charged however and Hermione knows, even in her bleary eyed and limp limbed state, that she is still at the utter mercy of the sisters Black. 

Still it's Bellatrix who holds the whip right now, Bellatrix who is staring down at her, mouth curved in a dangerous grin and honeyed eyes glance down between the elder witch's legs where a pale hand is lazily stroking a length of black silicone strapped to her hips. Hermione gasps as she immediately recognizes the gift of her own she had meant to unveil Christmas morning. 

“You peeked!” she accuses but with far less heat than intended given the fact that her lungs are still relearning their function. But even if she is a _little_ bit cross, she can't help but squirm in anticipation for that full length to be inside of her. So Christmas came a few days early. Fair since she had too. 

“Blame Cissy and her mind tricks, pet,” Bellatrix scoffs, gripping her beneath the thighs and pulling her close, moaning softly as the round head of the dildo brushes against Hermione's already sopping core. 

It's big and for a split second Hermione curses her red faced impulsiveness when she'd all but snatched the first dildo she had seen in one of Muggle London's sex shops, failing to ask for help in her self consciousness and not doing her research first when the only thing she's taken was a few fingers. But then she feels Andromeda's own brand of magic seeping into her, feels her emotions being manipulated, like warm water pouring into her veins and relaxing her enough for her to spread her legs further apart and give Bellatrix easier access.

She can't quite stay the whimper that crawls from her throat when the dark witch sinks into her to the hilt. She's wet, yes, but the invasion stings fiercely as her body tries to adjust around something that definitely surpasses the width of three fingers. A mess of curls blinds her for a moment as Bella surges forward and swallows the following hiss of discomfort from her lips, absorbing it with a deep moan of her own. 

“It's not too much,” Bellatrix whispers, the blunt edges of her teeth nipping Hermione's earlobe, her voice trembling slightly as her arousal spikes from her lover's slight pain, all while she thrusts deeper, the soft appendage stretching sodden tissues, “I know it's not. You can take it.”

And Hermione can, she knows she can. Yet she still writhes beneath the dark witch, tightening her jaw against the burn until it melts into a heated pleasure/pain mix that makes her toss back her head and cry out as her core pulses, her body flaring back to life like flames on a candlewick, waist coiling, back arching, raising to meet each scorching stroke. 

“Told you so,” Bellatrix teases, breathlessly triumphant, gripping her lover around the middle, pinning her to the bed, her hips driving deeper as if mining for diamonds, sending a silent signal to her sisters that Hermione is too far in the throes of pleasure to catch.

Until it suddenly _does_ become too much. Narcissa invades her mind once more while simultaneously Andromeda's mouths engulfs one of her straining nipples and Hermione is instantly overcome, drowning in the sensations of tongue and teeth and the seizing of her mind, forcing her to feel her own wetness, her own tightness, her own throbbing through the mind of Bella and it so much she locks her nails into smooth flesh and _oh_ she can feel that too, the stinging of her own nails clawing, trying to seek purchase as if she's scratching herself. All while Bella keeps a steady rhythm, pounding into her with a strength that belies her size, Andromeda teases her skin, and Narcissa claims her mind. 

There are going to _kill_ her. 

“ _Cissa_ ,” she cries out in an attempt for a respite, eyes squeezed shut, harsh gasps bursting from her heaving chest, panic mingling with the pleasure now because she can't _take_ this, “Please, _god_ please.”

But Narcissa doesn't relent, not just yet. _That's not the safe word now is it, sweet girl?_

Safe word. What the fuck is a bloody safe word? What is a safeword when one sister is literally turning her inside out below the waist, the other is sopping her up like Christmas dinner and the other has her mind in a vice grip stronger than an orgasm? 

_You don't really want us to stop, do you? Like Bella said, you can take this, can't you?_

“ _Fuck_!” She cries out, the word sharp and followed by a serious of high pitched moans blending all three names together in a nonsense string that is almost like a desperate prayer. She is going to come or _die_. Whichever happens first. A storm surges within her, only spurred on by the three forces driving it - Bellatrix's thrusts losing their rhythm as the dark witch chases her own release, contrasted by Andromeda's gently reverent exploration of her body with soft fingers and probing tongue and those low and throaty moans of pleasure breathed into her ear, all bound by Narcissa's magic permitting all three to feel exactly what Hermione is feeling. A maelstrom, a bloody trifecta that is threatening to crush the former Gryffindor beneath its tonnage. 

Oh, right. Gryffindor is the safe word. 

Hermione's body literally _implodes_ before she has a chance to attempt to utter it, the only sound that comes out of her a strangled scream tapered into broken sobs and desperate clutches for breath as her core seizes, clamping down on the dildo as a series of pulses ripple through the muscles. The throbs of pleasure _rob_ her of her senses, all she can do is surrender to being dragged down, spiralling beneath the waves and hope in some far recess of her mind to eventually resurface. 

It's Andromeda's gentle caress against her jaw that brings her back to consciousness, soft strokes with the backs of even softer knuckles and warm brown eyes that meet her hazy gaze. “You're perfect, love,” her voice a dulcet purr, “So, so perfect.”

And Hermione soaks up the praise, basking in it as her eyelids flutter and her heart rate slows. Now she can feel the warmth of Bellatrix's body collapsed atop hers, all but drowning in all those dark curls, the sweet lingering sting of the dildo still buried within her. And Narcissa to her left, quietly exhaling the fatigue the great use of magic has caused her, her ivory skin both flushed and damp, her blonde tresses sticking in wisps against her chest and rib cage. 

“She almost tapped out,” Cissa breathes and for a moment a lance of anxiety slices somewhere within Hermione's chest until she fights the force of gravity and lifts her chin to tumble into a lake of frosty tourmaline and sees the approval she's desperately seeking, “But she did not. She's stronger than she gives herself credit for, aren't you my sweet?” 

The brunette nods eagerly, embracing her inner student as she always did when with the demanding former Mistresss of Malfoy Manor. And then, Bellatrix stirs with a groan, propping herself up onto her elbows with some difficulty, her jet colored hair in such a disarray it looks like it might actually suffocate her. 

“A little warning next time Cissy, before you try to cripple us all,” the eldest sister's tone is raspy and more ornery than one would assume someone who has just shared an earth shattering orgasm could muster, “And _you_ ,” her ire directed towards Andromeda now, “You were supposed to balance it _before_ she thinks she's going to die. You can't be so far gone you've lost your touch. Last time I do anything bloody _nice_ for the both of you.”

But Hermione can see through Bellatrix's heated temper, always so quick to anger when she's trying to conceal worry or fear, and that it is why she supposes she loves her most. Her arms feel like lead but she struggles through the weight to sweep aside those unruly locks that half conceal that perfectly angular face and blinks the fog from her own eyes before she meets solid obsidian. “Hey, I'm all right,” she whispers, letting her fingers drive her words home, “I'm okay, my love. It was wonderful,” because it had been and she smiles when she feels Bella finally relax into her touch, “You all are wonderful.”

Because they are. The three of them. And yes, Christmas is days away and true, this started off as Bellatrix giving her sister's something she was _finally_ willing to share with them in her presence, but Hermione can't help but feel it is she who had been given a gift. She had never had the three of them together because _god_ they had just proven how intense, how powerful being with them all could be. But, despite her own qualms, and theirs as well that extended far deeper than the usual sibling rivalry, they had done it. And she can't help but feel _full_. With Bella atop her breathing evening out as she traces nonsense patterns with the tips of her fingers along her torso, Cissa spooned against her left side already asleep, so close she can feel her pulse against her shoulder, and Andromeda stroking her hair, half cradling her on the right, Hermione feels a fullness within that even the season for giving can not top.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually write holiday themed pieces but I thought it would be kind of fun to do it, and I was right. Also this was my first time writing a sex scene with more than three people in it, a foursome? Yeah, I was kind of nervous about it but I enjoyed the headspace this put me in and hope it doesn't get me put on the 'naughty list' lol. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, feedback would be greatly appreciated!


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